Earning Suckers
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl, Oneshot. Earning suckers had become a euphemism for something else entirely, even though the candy went hand in hand with the deed. Even the best things, though, sometimes had their complications. Rated for language/suggestion.


**AN: So this is just a little one shot based on a Tumblr prompt by my dear serpetinefire. It's just for fun, so don't take it too seriously.**

 **I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

The economy sized bag of suckers had been full when Daryl had found them. Now Carol assumed there was, possibly, half a bag left. They'd never made it into the "community" pile of findings. The suckers had gone straight into Daryl's personal bag and he'd brought them directly to Carol as a present.

They had shared most of them. Accidentally, the suckers had gotten wrapped up oddly in their sex life. They joked that they "earned" the suckers after a satisfying love-making session. They were so much a part of it now that they teasingly referred to sex as "earning a sucker".

Now, after their almost nightly love making sessions, rather than slip outside to smoke a cigarette, they lie in bed together and shared one of the suckers. Sometimes, however, they fell asleep before they were done with the candy and woke up the next morning to find the thing carelessly lost in the bed and usually stuck to the sheets.

Until now, actually, the forgotten candy had always turned up stuck to the sheets.

 _Until now._

Carol was trying not to laugh, but she was doing a poor job of hiding her amusement. Daryl looked miserable, and that wasn't helping things in the slightest.

"Just get the damn thing out already!" Daryl barked.

"I can't!" Carol said. "I mean—I can, but I can't just pull it out!"

The sucker that they'd apparently forgotten about the night before was so wrapped up in Daryl's hair that it almost wasn't visible. During his nightly tossing and turning—evidence of all the things that still haunted him while he slept—Daryl had gotten the thing twisted up better than Carol would have even imagined possible. It was nearly stuck to his scalp and most of the hair on the left side of his head seemed to be part of the massive tangle.

"Just get it out!" Daryl barked again.

Carol held her hands up at him to try to calm him. Waiting for her to solve this problem was just making him grow more and more irritated by the moment.

"OK," Carol said. "OK. I'll get it out. Just—let's go into the kitchen and...and I'll get it out there."

Daryl nodded his head. He got up from the bed and started for the kitchen. Carol called him back. He turned abruptly when she said his name.

"What?" He asked. "Thought we was gonna get this out. Listen, I can't go out to work like this. If I do? I gotta explain the whole damn thing and—I just ain't gonna do it."

Carol bit her lip to hide her amusement and nodded her head. She and Daryl had only been an item for a few months. It had happened accidentally after they'd won the war over Negan. What they'd meant to be a simple congratulatory hug among friends had ended up, practically, as a public make-out session that neither of them had intended. From there, they'd decided to just see how things went.

And things were going quite well.

But Daryl still had some difficulty _talking_ about their relationship and, as a result, he was heckled by a lot of the other men who didn't realize that Daryl was much more a man of action than he was a man of words—especially when it came to loving Carol.

"I'm going to get it out," Carol assured him. "But aren't you forgetting something?" She raised her eyebrows at him and directed her eyes downward. It took him only a second to realize that he'd been so distraught over finding the missing sucker that he'd forgotten about putting on pants. "I just think—since people are fond of stopping by without knocking—you might want to cover up a little. But if you don't, it doesn't bother me any."

"Shit," Daryl mumbled.

Carol laughed to herself as she watched Daryl work his way into his pants. Once he was decent, in the event that someone were to stop by and invite themselves into Carol and Daryl's home, he continued his trip to the kitchen.

Carol dragged one of their dining room chairs into the middle of the kitchen and, seeing what she was doing, Daryl helped her get it the last leg of the journey. She pointed to it and he sat down, still looking very upset by the whole turn of events. Carol went to the kitchen drawer and selected the sharpest pair of scissors she had and then she returned to where Daryl was sitting. Seeing her coming with the scissors, Daryl held up his hand quickly like he was shielding himself from an intended stabbing.

"Hey, hey! Hold up! What the hell you think you doin' with those?" Daryl asked.

"I'm getting the sucker out," Carol responded.

"You'll fuckin' scalp me!" Daryl protested.

"I've had a little practice cutting hair over the years," Carol said. "I used to cut mine."

"And you was damn near scalped when I met'cha," Daryl said.

Carol put her hands on her hips.

"I'm sorry?" She asked. "You didn't like my hair?"

Daryl closed his mouth quickly. There was a certain expression that Daryl wore when he was trying to work his way out of a problem. He was wearing it now.

"Liked it fine," Daryl said finally. "Like it like it is now, too. Just sayin'—I don't want'cha cuttin' my hair that damn short."

"Your hair wasn't long when I met you," Carol said. "If I remember correctly, you kept it pretty short, then, too."

"That was 'cause Merle had a thing about long hair," Daryl said. "Said it made ya look like a dirty ass redneck."

"It does make you look like a dirty ass redneck," Carol confirmed.

Now it was Daryl's turn to look offended.

"Fuck you callin' me?" He asked, his irritation coming out in his voice.

"I'm not calling you anything," Carol said. "I'm saying that's what your hair makes you look like. I haven't seen your eyes in forever. You can't say it doesn't bother you, because you're constantly trying to blink it away. You'd probably aim better if you could actually see what you're shooting at."

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows at her. With the sucker holding up his hair, Carol could actually see his eyes.

"This is the first I've heard you bitch about it," Daryl pointed out.

"I'm not bitching," Carol said. "I'm agreeing with Merle. Rest his soul—wherever he is." She sighed. "Look—I love you, Daryl. Just like you are. Long hair, short hair—no hair at all. I love you and that isn't going to change. But—I'd like to see your eyes. And what it all boils down to right now is that the only way I'm going to get this sucker out is to cut it out. So—what'll it be? Are you going to wear that sucker tangled up in your hair until ants take you away? Or are you going to let me cut your hair and take a chance that you might actually like it?"

Daryl looked like he was carefully weighing those options, so Carol waited patiently to let him make what he felt was the best decision for him.

To help him along, Carol raised her eyebrows at him and offered him a soft smile—the kind of smile that she was sure he'd recognize.

"You know, if you just let me do this—you might just earn another sucker. Tonight, after work? You might even—earn a sucker before dinner," Carol said. "After all, we'll both need a shower after work, you know."

Daryl's interest was clearly piqued by Carol's offer. He considered it only a moment more before he sighed and nodded his head.

"Fine," he said. "Go ahead. But don't leave it just chopped up. I don't wanna walk around lookin' like an idiot."

Carol shook her head.

"I'd never let you walk around looking like an idiot," she assured him.

She stepped toward him, but Daryl held his hand up again, stopping her once more.

"And don't scalp me. Don't—don't just get scissor happy an' cut it right on down to the skin. I don't wanna walk around bald neither," Daryl said.

Carol drew her finger across her chest in the shape of an "X".

"Promise," she said. "I won't cut it any shorter than I have to. I'll just get the sucker out and then I'll clean up the rest so it's even and looks nice. Deal?"

Daryl sighed and settled into his chair, arms crossed across his chest. Carol assumed that was all she was getting as far as agreement went, so she stepped up and examined the mess that had been caused by the sticky candy. When she made the first few cuts, Daryl clearly tensed up. She scolded him for turning his head, once, when the freed candy dropped to the ground with a generous sized clump of his hair.

The more she worked, though, the more relaxed Daryl became. By the time Carol had finished cutting his hair, doing the best she could to really make the cut look nice, Daryl had relaxed into his chair.

"If you like it," Carol said, "we might see about borrowing some clippers and a guard. Then I could make sure it was perfectly even. Still, even without them I've got it pretty even."

"You done?" Daryl asked. He reached a hand up like he was going to touch his head, but he stopped before he actually touched it like he wasn't sure if she was still cutting and might nip at his fingers or scold him for interrupting her.

"I'm done," Carol assured him. "You can go and dust yourself off. Have a look at it. You might want to rinse off in the shower, too. Just to make sure you get all the hair off."

Daryl got up from his chair and muttered a thanks to her before he walked straight back to the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom they'd laid claim to. While he was gone, Carol got a broom and started to clean up the mess. She tossed it, candy and all, over the railing of the porch outside so that the bugs could feast on the candy and the birds could use the hair for their nests.

By the time she was certain there was no hair left in the kitchen, Daryl had showered and finished fussing with his hair. When he returned to the kitchen, he was dressed and still pink from the hot water.

Carol couldn't help but smile at him. He looked handsome with his hair cut short. She always thought he looked handsome, of course, but she thought he looked even better when she could be sure that he had a face and eyes.

"You smiling because I look ridiculous?" Daryl asked.

"I'm smiling because you look pretty amazing," Carol said. "Do you think you look ridiculous, Daryl?"

He didn't respond one way or the other to her question.

"You cut it pretty short," he said, reaching his hand up to rub at the hair on the back of his neck. Carol had cut it pretty short. Honestly, she'd cut it a little shorter than it absolutely had to be, but Daryl didn't need to know that.

"I think it looks great," Carol said. "Better than it did long. You look—handsome. In fact? I'm a little worried about you going out there to work. I don't want any of the ladies around here getting any ideas."

Daryl's cheeks blushed red.

"Yeah?" He asked.

Carol raised her eyebrows and nodded her head.

"Yeah," she said. "I'll be worried the whole time you're out there."

Daryl laughed to himself. Clearly he was flattered by her concern and her compliments.

"What you so worried about?" He asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

"You never know," she said. "Someone might—get the idea that they want you for themselves. They might try to lead you astray."

Daryl raised his eyebrows in response.

"You mean like a certain asshole around here that always looks like he's one day away from a damn photo shoot for Bounty?" Daryl asked. Carol swallowed back her amusement. "Or were you talkin' more along the lines of Good King Wenceslas?"

Carol let go of her laughter then.

"OK," she said. "Harass me all you want, but I'm just saying that the ladies of Alexandria are going to take notice of a certain—clean cut redneck around here."

Daryl's smirk fell. He took on the normal, sincere expression that he wore. He closed the few feet between them and stood directly in front of Carol. She looked into his eyes—now that she could see them with ease—and marveled for just a moment at how intently he stared back at her. He shook his head gently from side to side.

"And you know I ain't gonna pay 'em no attention," he said.

"I know," Carol said. "Just like I'm not—I'm not paying anyone else any attention. You know that."

Daryl nodded his head. Then he ducked his head and Carol met him for a kiss. When they broke apart, he stared at her a moment longer and then nodded his head once more. Outside of the quiet declarations of love that Daryl only made when he was sure they were very much alone and the timing was perfect for it, the nod coupled with a slight curve upward of the corner of Daryl's mouth was the only way that Daryl Dixon said he loved her.

But Carol spoke his language well enough to know what he meant, and she accepted it. She didn't need the words. She'd learned she had very little use for words. Feeling Daryl's love mattered far more than hearing it declared, out loud and publicly, ever would.

"Thank you," Daryl said. "For gettin' the damn sucker out."

Carol smiled at him.

"Thank you for letting me cut your hair," Carol said.

Daryl smirked at her.

"Don't think I forgot you promised me another sucker tonight," Daryl said. "Just—this time let's make sure this one don't end up in the bed."

Carol laughed to herself.

"I would never forget that I promised you a sucker," Carol responded. And tonight? We make sure we finish this one. Maybe, to be extra sure we don't fall asleep, we'll just make the deal that—we have to earn this one _twice_. Once before and once after."

"I might be up for that," Daryl offered.

Carol snorted.

"I hope you are," Carol said. "The whole plan kind of depends on it."


End file.
